


peach to a peach

by Florilege_mov



Series: literally just OC sickfic shit [2]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Again, Fluff, Jack is worried, Late night talking, M/M, Phone Calls, Short & Sweet, no horny this time!, sicfick
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-01
Updated: 2020-02-01
Packaged: 2021-02-28 00:55:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 441
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22515094
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Florilege_mov/pseuds/Florilege_mov
Summary: “Hey,” you say. Your voice is soft and beyond tired. You hear a soft “hey,” between rough coughing on the other line. You wish you were there to take care of him. You lean back against your headboard, putting your phone on speaker, clutching a pillow close and pretending it was Oliver.
Relationships: Original Male Character/Original Male Character
Series: literally just OC sickfic shit [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1619155
Kudos: 3





	peach to a peach

Your name is Jackson Vallejo and something is keeping you up. 

You don’t know what, but it’s 2:51 AM and your body just won’t get tired. You briefly worry about Oliver, but you’re certain that he’s sleeping. He’s been exhausted for the past few days that he’s been sick- poor thing. Sadly, you couldn’t stay over tonight, because he’s parents weren’t very keen of you after you almost cut the electricity to their entire house. 

Anyway, you think some more about Oliver. He’s been so tired, you think, he hasn’t been able to stay up until 10 recently. No need to worry. But you still do. You still worry, because sometimes he’d wake himself up with his coughing. You think about how you kinda miss his fingers against your forearm, and his chest pressed up against yours. Not to say he was tiny- far from it, considering he played every sport under the sun, but he was still shorter and just a little skinnier than you. 

Oh great, now you’re thinking about Oliver. 

Just in time, as if god read your mind, your phone pinged with that familiar ringtone that you’ve accustomed yourself to. You pick your phone up so quickly that you almost throw it into the wall. You hiss as your eyes struggle to adjust and focus on the bright light in front of your face, but you see the words “can’t sleep” and you’re sold. Your fingers aren’t working for touch-ID, and you almost throw your phone at the wall again. You frantically type in your password, and think for a second; Damn, I care a lot about this little dude. 

Once you’re on the iMessage screen, you press the audio call button faster than you ever thought possible. He answers just as quickly. 

“Hey,” you say. Your voice is soft and beyond tired. You hear a soft “hey,” between rough coughing on the other line. You wish you were there to take care of him. You lean back against your headboard, putting your phone on speaker, clutching a pillow close and pretending it was Oliver. 

“You doin’ okay?” 

“Well, besides having the fucking coronavirus,  
I’m fantastic.”

You laugh softly. His voice is gravelly and it sounds like he’s been coughing a lot more than you thought. He’s whispering too; so his parents don’t hear him. 

“Don’t kiss me with that shit, dawg,”

“Yeah yeah, try to stop me.”

He laughs as well, stopping himself before he goes into a coughing fit. You aren’t as worried anymore. Tonight is a good night. 

You stay on call with him until you pull into his driveway the next day.


End file.
